


Some Forms of Love

by santino



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Thranduil, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Implied Mpreg, Lingerie, M/M, Married Life, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Post Mpreg, Self-Lubrication, Top Thorin, let's be honest thranduil isn't sick in this fic, thranduil has cute tits because i said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 13:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18605599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santino/pseuds/santino
Summary: Thorin stayed home to keep a supposedly sick Thranduil company. Not the usual sickfic...





	Some Forms of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Modern Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4267524) by [heartsdesire456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456). 



> This is a love letter to my favorite Thorinduil series of all time: Child of the Future by heartsdesire456. If you somehow haven't read those yet, do so now! It never fails to make me smile everytime I reread it. 
> 
> Basically, I'm raising my rights alongside with Thorin. Five foot tall Tops CAN loom over pretty things like Thranduil, even if they're seven foot tall. It's just a matter of who's lying down and who's on top...
> 
> A line in the fic is from Oscar Wilde, the title is based on that too.

"Thranduil. I really do need to finish this, you know."

The damn elf is draped over his back, long arms resting over the dwarf's broad shoulders, and his soft blond hair is tickling the tips of Thorin's ears and his cheekbones. Thorin is trying to finish paperwork at home, thank you very much, he may have taken an absence for Thranduil but that doesn't mean he wouldn't work. He doesn't want them to pile on his desk nor does he like to delegate these tasks to his subordinates unlike _others_ he knows.

"But I want to play a little game." Thranduil's chest rumbles against Thorin's shoulder as the elf's voice fills his ear. Any other time he would have welcomed it, but now Thorin practices being stubborn on principle. The elf always gets what he wants in the end anyways.

"I thought you were sick? You should be resting, my love." He acquiesces and kisses Thranduil's cheek, thinking it's just his usual clinginess. The elf whines.

"I'm so horny." Ah, there it is.

"If you loved me you would wait."

Thorin can almost feel Thranduil's lips stretch into a smug smile. The elf starts to leave sweet little kisses the back of Thorin's ear, down his jaw, and the dwarf feels his resolve start to melt. "Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling."

"Thranduil. Rest." Although knowing Thranduil, Thorin can guess it all came from that. The elf was probably too bored waiting out for the last bout of his sickness to pass as he rested, and planted ideas in his head. If only Thranduil learned to watch TV for fun or read a book instead of pestering his dwarf.

Thranduil pulls away. Thorin won't take it as a win, he knew Thranduil won't give up. But he takes the few moments of reprieve and signs a couple more of papers. Thranduil sighs dramatically as he watches. "You're so dull, you know. I can't figure why I ever married you."

Thorin chuckles. "After four kids, you think you'd have guessed."

Four wonderful children, Mahal blessed. In more than a decade of Thranduil and Thorin's togetherness. Certainly quite a number for an elf and a dwarf, but they've always defied expectations. The first one came with a surprise from a supposedly hate-fuck, enemies-with-benefits arrangement they had going on, and what do you know? With child came love and with love came marriage. And with marriage came more kids.

Thranduil is the most beautiful he'd ever seen him, swollen with his seed. His hair shines even more if that was possible, cheeks fuller and red, a gentler version of himself (not that Thorin didn't love him in his most furious state.) And with an insatiable need for his cock, not to forget. Thorin is only a hot-blooded dwarf, and with a heart always soft for this ridiculous elf he married.

"Thorin, please…" and now his husband is begging. Come to think of it, Thranduil isn't much different when he's not carrying his kid, exhibit A. Thranduil puts his hand over Thorin's shoulder, swinging the chair around to face him. Thorin anticipated it, putting the pen on the holder.

Thranduil kneels in front of him, and Thorin can now see his husband's clothing, or at least lack of it. The incorrigible elf has his thinnest robe on, the fabric only giving his long form a baby blue tinge. It's sheer, and Thorin drags his eyes lower, from his husband's graceful neck and his exposed shoulder. He still has his cute tiny breasts from bearing their youngest child, and he deigned not wearing bralet, showing his rosy nipples. Thorin's throat feels like a desert.

Thranduil's hand slides from his own chest, to his soft stomach, and to his blue lace panties, where Thorin can see he's slightly hard. His fingers pull the elastic and snap it against his porcelain skin, and he makes a low chuckle as if amused with himself. Thorin wants to reach down and cup his husband's pretty cock for himself to find out, but he reins himself in.

Whatever Thranduil sees on his face is enough to make him grin instead of getting annoyed at his silence. That same sinful hand makes its way now to Thorin's knee, sliding between his thighs where Thorin opens them to relieve his tight crotch.

"Thorin, meleth nin, can I suck your cock?" Thorin's eyes snaps to his husband's face, eyes like diamonds in the sea, lips pink and open and moist. "It's all I've been thinking about all morning and it's driving me _mad_..." That hand toys with Thorin's zipper, tracing his crotch through the cloth like he can't wait to open a birthday gift. "I just want you to fill my mouth with cum..."

"Aule," Thorin hisses. He's so goddamn hard, he nearly laughs. At his age... "I will ruin you."

Thranduil's smile is slow to spread on his pretty face. "Not yet. Not before you."

Thorin's eyes darken, twin oceans in the night. He watches his husband open his zipper and take out his length (and girth, worthy of a dwarf, as they say.), hardening even further in Thranduil's hand. Thranduil flashes him a smirk like he won some game before he closes his lips over Thorin's bulbous head. He moans at the taste, pulling off to drag his tongue from the base to the top.

He pumps Thorin's cock with his fine-boned fist, swallowing like he was testing the waters. Thranduil pulls off again to watch Thorin's precum gather on the slit of his dick and drip on his shaft, and the elf chases it with his tongue, moaning in delight. Mahal, that pretty mouth.

Their house is empty with the kids at school and their youngest in day care, and it's quiet save for the sound of Thranduil's mouth sucking Thorin's dick. It's obscene, how he loved it, and made no effort to keep himself quiet. More than ten years and Thorin's knees still shakes at the sight of him, though he suspects it's also because of his age.

The light in the home office pales to the sun streaming through the open window, alighting Thranduil's white gold hair as it's twisted within Thorin's fist. The open window, Mahal, their neighbor can see them.

"Thranduil, my dear," he rumbles, voice low in his chest. "The window is open. Oh fuck, Mahal, slow down or I'll blow in your throat, you filthy elf. Let me close it—"

Thranduil shakes his head vehemently, not taking his mouth off of him. He even lowers down an inch, his pink lips stretched around Thorin's girth obscenely. One of his hand that's not jerking the root of Thorin's dick off reaches up to cover Thorin's hand, urging the dwarf to manhandle him.

Thorin groans, and lifts his hips to start fucking Thranduil's throat, his husband relaxing to let him in. Thranduil loves this. His eyes look at Thorin, a little dazed, so gorgeous. He enjoys with surprising obsession the weight of Thorin's cock inside his mouth, his tongue is flat as it drags up and down Thorin's shaft as Thorin fucks his throat. Little bit of his saliva has dripped out of his mouth, the messy thing that he is when he wants to be dirty.

Thorin remembers everytime they fucked in here, Thranduil never shut the blinds (they made their second child right where he sat). Their neighbor of two years, as he knows, likes Thranduil too much. It never bothered Thorin, because he knows and trusts that Thranduil is his, and his only, and he will never stray, as is vice versa. But Thranduil is unsettled by this, and in his roundabout way of telling the poor guy to whom he belongs, he spreads his legs to Thorin here every chance he gets for the guy to see. The dwarf wonders how they both get anything done.

Or maybe his love is just purely exhibitionist.

Hm. He'll get to that later...

"Baby, I'm going to blow," Thorin rasps, holding Thranduil's hair tighter and cupping the back of his head with the other hand. His husband's nightie has slipped down, revealing his milky white shoulder. Thranduil sucks eagerly, his nose nearly brushing the dwarf's pubic hair with how far down Thorin is in his throat. His throat clamps over the head of the dwarf's cock and Thorin finally comes, keeping the elf's head down so he can swallow it all.

Thranduil is a champion, swallowing it all without choking. Well, he's had more than a decade of practice with this cock. Thorin nearly blacks out, and leans his shoulders back on his chair to catch his breath. His eyes are closed but he feels his husband clean up his cock with his tongue, hungry still even after a load down his throat. His dick twitches but Thorin is not any younger, it won't truly take the bait for at least a couple of minutes, and he's being generous.

A moment later and Thorin feels Thranduil climb up his lap and kiss his mouth, the elf's hand cupping his cheek, soft on Thorin's beard. Thorin laughs, kissing him back, putting his arms around his husband's waist, running his palms on the smooth skin.

"This chair is going to give out on us, my love," Thorin says amusedly, as they take a moment's pause after sucking each other's tongues like teenagers still. Thorin's not so small in comparison to Thranduil, especially as they're tangled together like this. He is a dwarf after all, built to be packed and wide if not tall, unlike his husband. Though he is definitely the tallest of his kin.

Thranduil's shoulders are wide, like a King of old, commanding respect to others, and they fit just perfectly with Thorin's as the elf plasters their chests together. His legs are endless, and beautiful, and Thorin runs his hand along their length. His waist is small, sign of a bearer, his form more for agility than brute force. Thorin is wider and burly in comparison, his middle thick with muscle and fat, from labor and years of marriage, respectively. It comes naturally.

Thranduil makes a noncommittal sound at Thorin's words, though the dwarf has forgotten what he himself had said, for Thranduil's mouth has that ability. The elf moves onto Thorin's jaw, running his hands on the dwarf's chest, not sated yet, it seems. His fingers unbutton Thorin's shirt and runs his hand on the dwarf's chest hair, endlessly fascinated with them.

Thorin in turn flips up the elf's robe, though calling it that is being generous. His hands slip in Thranduil's panties and slide in between his cheeks to find that he's already wet.

The dwarf makes a surprised noise. "Already played with yourself?"

Thranduil hums, rocking back against his finger. "Couldn't stop thinking about you…"

Thorin's other hand drifts to Thranduil's front, though he already knew, he grasps his pretty cock, still hard. "Haven't come yet, my love?"

Thranduil shakes his head. "I want it to be you."

Oh, he knows his husband well. Not accustomed at all to jerking himself off and making himself come after years of being spoiled, and wants Thorin to do it for him instead, saying it's not the same. Thorin would call him lazy if he didn't like indulging him, but as it happens, Thorin loves doing it for him. Oh, cut him some slack, it's part of the wedding vows, maybe. He doesn't remember; it's long ago, and he's rendered stupid with that amazing orgasm just minutes ago.

So much for refusing Thranduil and teaching him some discipline, he's on Thorin's lap about to get his ass fingered as he wishes.

"What do you want me to do, baby?" Thorin whispers to Thranduil's ear as he slides a finger in, just teasing. Thranduil's hole swallows his finger eagerly and the elf is already squirming, wanting more. "You want to be played with? Right here on my office table? I should carry you up on our bed and fuck you like a proper husband," Thorin pulls out his digit and Thranduil nearly cries, his hand reaching back to keep Thorin's hand in place. "But I know you don't want that. You want out here in the open, because nothing says you're mine more than being seen with my hand up your tight ass and my cock in your throat. With your legs wide open and anyone can see just how much you love being fucked until you can't see straight anymore."

At the end it's obvious what it really is. It's no secret that Thranduil's vice is his vanity. It's become endearing to Thorin over the years, to his own surprise. And he knows he's lucky to have married the most beautiful elf he could out there (He'd apologize to his ancestors rolling in their graves if he regretted it, but he has never.)

Thranduil with his ostentatious clothings, at his very core, loves the thought of being seen, even without anyone's eyes on him. Just the thought of it, even if it isn't real. It's dangerous compared with his love of belonging to Thorin, growing up lonely as an only child. He enjoys being seen with his husband and their kids outside in society and galas, and he especially loves being mounted by Thorin everywhere in the goddamn house, the kitchen, the living room and the office being his prime settings when the kids aren't home. You'd be shocked how he liked being surprised and bent over somewhere he didn't expect.

He's filthy, and he's Thorin's.

Thorin carries Thranduil with little effort, used to carrying equipment in his spare time, a remnant from training as a youth. He deposits the elf on his office table and takes off his panties and at second thought, tucks it in his pocket.

"Too bad you don't have your toys with you," Thorin says against Thranduil's lips, hand on the elf's hip, thumb caressing the soft skin.

Thranduil grimaces and Thorin can tell he's itching to roll his eyes. "I told you I don't want them, just you."

Thorin laughs, kissing Thranduil's mouth, easily pleased. "Is that so?"

The elf's grin is devilish. His hands slither up and rests his elbows on Thorin's shoulders. "Oh yes..." he breathes, and Thorin finally puts two digits inside his slick hole. Thranduil's arms fall back on top of his head, resting on top of his white gold hair, fanned on the office table. His gorgeous legs are spread wantonly... "Nothing compares to the feel of your hand—" his breath hitches as Thorin starts to move them in and out. "The pulse of your dick beating in my ass..."

"You dirty minx."

"Elf, and, mmmm yes, I don't have a cunt, meleth nin."

"But your hole is wet like one, I wonder?"

"Thorin..."

"And your tits, my dear."

Thranduil pouts, leaning on his elbows now to look at his heaving chest. It's a comical sight seeing as Thorin is fingering him, albeit in a slow pace. His legs are wide open and the insides of his thighs are wet already. His cock is sitting on his belly, the tip wet with precum. "They're not even that big," Thranduil mumbles, grabbing one of his breast and rolling a nipple between his pointer finger and thumb. "After, ohh yes, my love, keep going— After, four kids, hmmm, y-you'd wonder..."

"I like them." Thorin leans and catches the other rosy nipple in his mouth, to show Thranduil. He likes squeezing them when he lays behind Thranduil on their bed, or sucking them playfully especially when they were exceptionally sensitive in Thranduil's pregnancies. Thorin's hand had paused in his ministrations and Thranduil smacks his shoulder, upset.

"I didn't tell you to stop!"

Thorin smothers his chuckles, hanging his head low, though he knew Thranduil can see his shoulders shaking with mirth.

"Stop laughing, you hairy ass, I'm still horny! Make good on your word, Thorin Oakenshield. Didn't you vow to always fill me with cum on our wedding day?" See, Thorin wasn't joking.

"I'm so sorry, my dear, you're just so lovely when you're upset." And it's true. Thranduil's ice blue eyes when they flash in anger never fails to make Thorin's blood boil in tandem with his, though sometimes it makes him laugh. Here Thorin is, with his office shirt unbuttoned, slacks unzipped and his cock hanging, already stiff, angry and red. It's not a feat, with his husband looking the way he does. Thranduil is naked and distressed, hole open and dripping with slick. Never a dull moment.

"I'll be more upset if you don't fuck me, I swear to Eru, you—HEIR OF DURIN! Before I die of fading, perhaps?"

"Oh don't jest of such things," Thorin grumbles, humor immediately leaving him like steam off a bull's nose. He hooks Thranduil's knees to rest over his elbows, and pulls him closer to the edge of the table that way. Thranduil falls on his back, though he doesn't complain as Thorin's mouth latches on his neck, the beard likely tickling his skin. By now, the elf's robe is barely on him anymore, though Thorin doesn't pull it off him completely. He looks like a treasure, debauched.

Thorin gives himself a stroke and two and feels filthy doing it looming over his husband. Thranduil could've used one or more finger to open him up, but since he's being impatient, Thorin may as well give it to him sooner than later.

The dwarf gives Thranduil one more kiss before he pulls back, watching the head of his cock disappear in Thranduil's pink hole without pause. He looks up and watches the elf's face twist, his mouth forming an O as Thorin sheathes himself inside completely.

"Oh, yes, Thorin," Thranduil moans as Thorin gives a few experimental thrusts. He looks comfortable, with his eyes closed, legs spread, no doubt loving the stretch and the lovely fucking. He has a dopey smile on his face that says he's gotten what he wanted.

That won't do.

Thorin leans over again, but this time he slides a hand around the elf's back and hoists him upright in one go. Thranduil cries in surprise, his legs wrapping around Thorin, and the gravity makes his hole sink further on the dwarf's dick.

The dwarf lifts him up and down on his cock expertly, his huge arms never letting go of him. Still, Thranduil holds onto him for dear mercy as he's impaled over and over Thorin's dick. The squeeze of his warm hole on the dwarf's cock is heavenly, but Thorin pulls the elf off of him completely. Thorin sets him down slowly on his feet, but Thranduil's knees are buckling.

"Shh," Thorin doesn't let go of Thranduil as the elf holds onto him still. Slowly Thranduil sinks to his knees and Thorin follows him to the floor, kissing his luscious mouth. He lays him on the floor and Thranduil readily spreads his legs, accepting Thorin as he enters the elf's hole again, like it's where he belongs.

This time, he doesn't wait for Thranduil to adjust. He puts Thranduil's legs over each shoulder and rams his dick inside him, hitting deeper than he has before. Thranduil makes an aborted yell, hand shooting up to tug on Thorin's curly hair. At this angle, Thorin bets he feels bigger, and impossibly deep, imprinting himself in the elf's guts. With no cushion or mattress to absorb the blow, Thranduil's ass takes the brunt of his thrusts. Thorin fucks him on the borderline of pain, the way the dwarf knows Thranduil loves it. Says it hurts so good.

Without warning, Thranduil cries and tightens around his cock like a vice and shoots a load up his chest, like a beginning of a pearl necklace. The way Thranduil been edging himself from Mahal knows how long is paying off splendidly. But Thorin is far from orgasm and his hips don't stutter as he shoves his dick as deep in his husband as he can, harder and faster, panting above him like a madman. He's a fuck machine, relentless, and Thranduil comes again not long after, over sensitive and nearly in tears.

The grip is delicious on his cock, and Thorin rewards Thranduil by playing with the elf's spent prick, stroking the poor thing and watches it valiantly sputter some more. Thranduil pulls at his wrist as the dwarf squeezes him, sobbing at the double sensation.

"Thorin, please..." Thranduil manages to beg, and Thorin takes pity on him and lets go. He slows down to a stop and leans over Thranduil, kissing his cheek lovingly, whispering words of adulation. The elf's hair is wet with sweat, and he turns so he can kiss Thorin too. Thranduil smiles against his lips, come dumb, and Thorin relishes in the sight of his peaceful face before he ruins him again.

This time, he changes his angle, and Thranduil sees it in his eyes. "Thorin?" The dwarf kisses his lips in a sweet kiss to assuage his husband's concern. Thorin moves his hips again, and he knows where to hit. His cock's head presses against Thranduil's prostate and the elf nearly bites his tongue as he did. Thorin ends their kiss and watches their saliva connect their lips as they part, Thranduil moaning in surprise, his eyes rolling back as Thorin hits that spot repeatedly.

The elf's hands grips Thorin's arm, and the nails dig in Thorin's skin. Sweat is nearly dripping from his brow at the effort. The dwarf leans on one hand as he gathers Thranduil's wrists with the other, crossing them on his chest to render him immobile where his tits are bouncing at the onslaught of Thorin's fucking.

Where Thranduil was babbling earlier incoherently even in Sindarin, he's nearly out of breath now, his chest heaving and his mouth unable to make a sound. Thorin can see he's close again, and the dwarf himself feels his balls tighten, he's getting excited at the prospect of spilling inside his husband.

Half a dozen thrusts, and his hips are stuttering. He gives one more desperate push, and another. He grunts at the effort, Aule, he's so close. Thranduil's ass squeezes around him, spasming in his third orgasm, Thorin follows soon after, painting his walls with his seed, growling in his release.

He stays there for a moment and more, his cock softening inside Thranduil's abused hole. Thorin lavishes his pretty face, slack in exhaustion, with soft kisses, and tells him how good he was, how much he loves him. Thranduil could only make a noise in response, but Thorin smiles weakly at it. It's better than him blacking out and worrying Thorin.

The elf's eyes are drifting shut though, and Thorin knows he'll fall into a long sleep after such an exhausting activity. He pulls out slowly, careful not to hurt Thranduil, and the elf only winces a bit, hand absently drifting down to touch at his opening.

Thorin peers down and inspects him, and is grateful he's alright, just stretched and pink, no more than their usual romp. His entrance is gaping from the size of Thorin's cock, and dripping with his seed. The dwarf dares to scoop the come back inside Thranduil and the elf only hums. Thorin thinks of plugging him up. Thorin hopes for a fifth kid.

He wants to clean Thranduil's hole with his mouth but he figures not to torture Thranduil any longer, he knows how sensitive the elf is from his beard and his tongue. _Later_ , he decides, as he kneels and puts his hand underneath Thranduil's waist and his knees. He carries his husband bridal style, and Thranduil is awake for the last moment as he leans his cheek on Thorin's shoulder and kisses his neck, whispering 'I love you too.'

Just moments afterward and Thorin feels Thranduil's body slacken completely against his, the elf's breathing turning into a steady rise and fall. Thorin walks over to the open window and closes it with his shoulder. He turns and climbs the stairs with some effort, opening their bedroom with his foot. He arranges Thranduil delicately on their bed and takes off the elf's robe, filthy with sweat from their lovemaking. Thorin comes back with a damp cloth to clean both himself and between Thranduil's thighs, gently as not to hurt him or wake him up.

Thorin showers and leaves the water freshened up, feeling like a new person. He wraps a towel around his waist, and after he wrings his hair dry, he leans against the doorway on his shoulder. It's still early in the day. Thorin crosses his arms in front of his thick hairy chest, watching his husband deceptively looking like an angel in his slumber, and debating on whether to join him or finish his work downstairs.

The dwarf sighs and puts on a pair of comfortable sleepwear, ambling over to Thranduil and lies beside him. Thorin draws the blanket over the both of them and leaves a chaste peck over Thranduil slack lips, because he can't help himself. He's bred his husband like a champion, he deserves a little rest. As Thorin buries his face on the tangle of Thranduil's soft hair, he reaches for the elf's hand to hold, and thinks of the smile he'll see on his husband's face when they wake. It's a lovely image, and Thorin falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Original ending before I decided I'd like it to end on a sweet note: Instead of staying with Thranduil for the duration of the day, Thorin gets called to office for an emergency, wearing the same pants. He's talking to Bard, a cup of coffee gets spilled unexpectedly. Thorin digs inside his pockets for his handkerchief and blindly pats the spilled contents with the cloth. They both look down and realize it's Thranduil's panties.
> 
> Feel free to yell at me on  
> twitter: thorinduiis  
> tumblr: elvenshield
> 
> I found another typo again. Seriously, feel free to call me out if you see anything confusing. I don't use my brain when I write.
> 
> Kindly leave a kudo if you liked it, leave a word or two if you want to inspire the author for more *<3*


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